Corruption of a Geek Goddess Pt. 03

"Haha, oh man, you put a lot of thought into this, it's like an itemized list. How many more rules are we talking about?"

"Uh, three."

"Great. Hit me."

"Ok. One, let's keep it to just Dylan. We know him, he's safe, clearly you enjoy him. I don't want to have to think about, like, a stable of guys."

"Ha! Done. I wasn't thinking of branching out anyway."

"Good. Two: I have to be part of it, no secrets. I always want to know what's going on, when you're seeing him, what happened. Take some videos when you're with him, and ... and I think I want to watch in person, at least once."

"Of course! Sharing this stuff with you is gonna be, like, the best part of the whole thing. And, oh my god, I kinda can't wait to do it with you there. If Dylan's ok with it, I mean. And the third obvious thing?"

"Um. Protection. Condoms, always. I know it was super hot to go without, and I get the whole 'only he gets to skip them' thing, that's pretty hot, too. But we really shouldn't risk something happening. So, it's either that or you go on the pill."

"I can't do the pill," she declared. I knew she'd had a terrible time with the side-effects before, so I wasn't surprised at that.

"I figured. So, condoms then."

"Hmmm," she said. For the first time in this conversation she really seemed to struggle with her answer. She looked off to the side and thought for a painfully silent 10 seconds. Finally she turned back to me and kind of bit her lip with just a hint of a playful smile.

"Mmmm, honeyyyyy ... I don't know. I really like that part of it, and I know you like it, too. And it would be totally fine! I can track my cycle, and when it's a bad time I can stay home, or finish him some other way ... and if there was a little slip-up we could still deal with it, like today. I understand what you're saying, and we can do it that way if you want, but..." Her fingers started walking up my leg towards me crotch, and that playful little smile blossomed into a big one. "Remember, sweetie? Condoms aren't for Dylan, they're just for you. Heheh, it's such a fun little twist! So naughty, and it's really no big deal when you think about it. Please?"

I groaned and shut my eyes as my dick began to get hard in record time. Fuck. I knew it wasn't the best way to make a decision like this, but right at the moment what she'd said seemed to make a whole lot of sense. She seemed to really want it, and she'd agreed to all my other suggestions. I guess a little compromise isn't the worse thing...

"... Ok. But you have to be careful. Please."

"Yay! Good call." She gave me a hug and a kiss then settled back down in her seat.

"Anyway, that's about all I had. What do you think? Anything ideas for what to add?"

"Ummm ... kinda, yeah, there was one thing," Chelsea said. "Aw, shit. You're gonna hate me..."

"I seriously doubt it. It's ok, come on."

"Alright. So, I know I'll be off playing with Dylan sometimes, but that's not permission for you to ... I mean, I don't want ... Ugh! I know I'm a total hypocrite, but I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. That idea's not hot for me. Like, at all. I just love you too much, and it makes me sick. So, do you promise? You'll stay true to me, even while I'm getting some on the side?"

This stung for just a moment, but then it went away. I realized that even with a free pass to fool around I wasn't that interested, and I'd be really unlikely to actually take advantage of it. And honestly the idea ... well, it wasn't un-sexy ... the denial of it, the power games. After just a few seconds I smiled and looked at my fiancée.

"Sure, honey. You're the boss."

Chelsea

I felt SOOO relieved after my big talk with Mark. Wow, that could have gone terribly, but now we're in a good place. And that's very much thanks to Mark: I know he's the one who saved us. But on top of relief, I was also downright giddy about the next few months — yeah, giddy in a "soggy panties" way because I get to have a bunch of sex with Dylan, but also giddy about sharing the whole experience with the man I love.

However, before any of that could happen I needed to have a chat with Dylan to explain what's going on and lay out the boundaries. When I told him what I wanted to do he said we should grab lunch and talk at his place, but I was pretty damn sure I knew what would happen if we met up in real life. Nuh-uh, nope — the plan is I'm not fucking him again until Sunday, and I was gonna stick to the plan.

While we were texting he mentioned that he was playing Mario Kart with a friend. I automatically started bragging about my sick Mario Kart skills, which got us on a back & forth about who would kick whose ass, and that's when Dylan suggested we just play against each other online right now, and I could go over the rules of our little arrangement over voice chat while we battled. Well, okay. Why not? We fired up the game and, as always, I picked Princess Peach. (Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I'm a girl, so just let me be a girl.) Dylan saw that and chuckled.

"Hmmm," Dylan said. "Peach, huh? Well then I guess that makes me Bowser!"

"Oh, Har-Har, very funny..."

Note for the gaming-illiterate: Bowser's the bad guy. Princess Peach is ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom and its resident damsel in distress — her job is to get kidnapped by Bowser so he can force her to marry him, and then the kind-hearted Mario tries to rescue her. So, all in all ... a pretty solid use of symbolism by Dylan!

Anyway, I started off on fire, winning 5 races in a row right off the bat. And our conversation started off on fire, too: chatting over a video game it's kinda hard to drill down into specifics (or explain how deathly serious you are about the rules), but I was able to tell him what we wanted, and he seemed cool with all of it.

As usual with Dylan, I was having a good time. With my winning streak I was jawing at him, trash-talking about how I was totally owning his ass at this. He was jawing back, promising revenge. I told him he was dreaming, that I was a bona fide video game celebrity icon and he should just accept that, whatever happens in the bedroom, I will always be his Daddy in Mario Kart. That's when he said it.

"Oh-ho! Is that a fact, Princess? Well, if you're so confident, how about we make it interesting..."

"Bring it on, son! What did you have in mind?"

"Ok. You said we should only hook up like once a week, right?"

"Ye-eeah ... I mean, more or less. So?"

"So, I don't want to have to wait that long. If I win the next race, we can meet up twice a week."

"Oh sure, right, like I'm gonna just agree to that right here."

"Come on, Peach, make the bet! You know you'd be hoping to lose anyway..."

I'll be perfectly honest right here ... I thought about it for a few seconds. It's not like he was wrong: losing and getting to fuck Dylan twice as often didn't exactly sound like a horrible fate. But Mark would go justifiably apeshit. Well, no, he's too nice for that — in fact I could probably talk him into it — but he'd hate it all the same.

"Dude! Come on, even if I did want ... ugh. Look, you know I can't make that bet."

"Alright alright, I know. Worth a shot. But how about this: if I win, we move it up just one day, this one time. Instead of meeting on Sunday, we do Saturday. That's nothing! Unless the world-famous gamer icon is scared she can't win when it matters, that is..."

"Fuck. You. But y'know what? I can swing that. You're on."

So we raced again. There was less chatter; both of us were taking it more seriously this time. And I led the whole freakin' way, until he blew me up right at the finish line and snuck by me.

"OH MY GOD!" I shouted into the microphone. "Such bullshit! Best two out of three!"

"Ha! Whatever you say, Peach..."

So we raced yet again ... and this time he wiped the floor with me. That sandbagging son of a bitch! I honestly think he was trying to hustle me this whole time. I should have been so offended. But you know what? I kinda loved it. It was funny, and impressive. Look, this whole thing is a game, right? Having fun with it is the point! And it was fun.

So I told Mark that there was a change of plans and that Saturday actually worked better for Dylan. He was fine with it.

***

I woke up on Saturday already excited, a single thought manically bouncing around the inside of my skull: Dylan! Today you get to fuck Dylan! The only thing I can compare it to is what Christmas morning felt like as a little kid.

And it's not like I was sexually starved or anything either. The four days since I got back and had that little talk with Mark were pure awesomeness. He was excited but definitely nervous, and I wanted to help get him through that, but also I was just so insanely grateful to him — grateful for his love, for his forgiveness, and for being the kind of man who trusts me enough to go on this adventure with me. So I showered him with love & affection, and he returned the same to me, and I've never felt closer to anyone in my whole damn life. I'm so lucky!

And we had loads of fun, naturally. We watched those videos of me & Dylan together to get ourselves wound up. (All except that last video, the one where things got a little emotional and I said certain things to Dylan — Mark didn't play that one, and I didn't say anything about it.) There was lots of groping and caressing and naughty remarks, constantly, and at least twice a day we'd have sex. And it was good sex! By the end of the week he was even settled down enough to fuck me while I teased him without cumming right away, and I'd get a proper rogering on top of all the other great stuff. Oh my God, do I ever love that man.

And yet. That night with Dylan had clearly made its mark on me, because I was downright impatient for the date all day. Mark could tell, and he tried to distract me in all the best ways, but still after a while it got so bad that I texted Dylan to move up the time for our rendezvous (instead of meeting at 6:00, we'd meet at 4:00).

Right before I had to start getting ready I walked up to Mark, hugged him, then grabbed him by the arm and silently marched him to our bedroom. I stripped off my house clothes and lay down with my ass on the edge of the mattress, legs spread. Mark made a move to take off his own clothes and I shook my head No — looking right at him I pointed at my kitty and said one word:

"Eat."

He dove down instantly, enthusiastically, groaning as he fell to his knees. Fuck. I loved that so much, and I could tell that he did as well. He commenced his (as usual) expert ministrations and I sighed in pure contentment before giving my pervy boyfriend some of what he really wanted.

"Mmmm ... am I wet, sweetie?" He lifted his mouth off of me just long enough to answer.

"Yes, Chelz, so wet."

"Aha, I thought so. And do you think I'm wet for you?"

"No, honey." Again, an instant reply followed by getting right back to work.

"Then why am I wet, babe?"

"Dylan."

"Hmm? What about Dylan? I'm wet because..."

"You're about to fuck Dylan."

"Ohhh, no dearie: Dylan's about to fuck me. Again." Another pained groan from Mark — he loved this shit. "Do you like that? You like knowing that he fucked your girl so good that she HAS to go back for more or she might fucking DIE, that she has to leave you here and get seen to by a real man?"

"Oh fuck. Yes..."

"Goood, baby, that's very good. Then get me ready for him. Do your job and get Dylan's pussy ready for him..."

And he did. He used one hand to finger my pussy while the other, I could tell, was rubbing his crotch through his shorts. It was fucking hot, but even then I was eager for my time with Dylan to begin, and as I got close to cumming I let Mark know it.

"Ohh GOD, Mark, hurry the fuck up ... hurry up and make me cum, I want to go, I need it, be a good helper and make me cum so I can go get what I really need — ah, shit! — you're so good at licking me, you're right where you belong, babe, oh fuck ... Oh my god, babe, are you gonna kiss it again when I get back this time? Are you gonna eat my sloppy pussy after Dylan gets done with it?"

He didn't stop to answer or give himself time to think, he just rapidly nodded his head up & down while his tongue worked its magic on stiff little button.

"Mmmm—fuck yeah you will! I read all about it online, guys like you love that shit, and I want to see it happen, want to see your face covered in our mess, want your friend's cum — oh fuck — on your tongue so you know you don't even ... you ... Aaahhh FUCK! CUMMING!!!"

I'd talked myself into one hell of a nice climax so I grabbed Mark's hair and ground his face into my crotch while it happened. And this was just the appetizer. Fuck.

Mark didn't make himself cum then — too distracted, maybe too embarrassed, I don't know —but I saw how hard he was under his shorts when I got up. I sat up and kissed him on the cheek (his lips were, um, a little messy), then went to get dressed while humming a happy tune. When I left 15 minutes later, I stopped at the doorway for one more embrace with my fiancé.

"I love you so much, babe. You're the fucking best," I told him while in his arms. "You'll be here when I get back, right?"

"Of course."

"Good. And you're really ok with this? Last chance to back out..."

He drew in a deep breath before answering. "Yes, I'm ok. I'm nervous, but I love you and I want you to do it."

"Mmmmm ... you make me so happy. One more kiss." He brought his lips to mine for a soulful smooch, then I backed off half a step, looked in his eyes, and give his crotch a gentle squeeze. "Ok, babe ... I'm gonna go get fucked."

And with an impish smile I walked out the door.

***

Somehow, my hookup with Dylan lived up to the hype in my head. I think part of that was due to the fact that this time, for the first time, I was doing it the right way. I wasn't betraying anyone; Mark was on board, legitimately enthusiastic; and now it was even a safe time in my cycle and I could get a kitty full of cum without fear. Guilt & shame & transgression can be hot in their own ways ... but guilt-free fucking is so deliciously liberating, and that made the whole thing better.

But mostly what made it good was just ... him. Dylan. His face, his body, even the mere scent of him: it just screams "man." That thick, granite cock. The strength to throw me around and the stamina to make it go as long as he likes. And that confidence, my god — he just goes for what he wants and makes the decisions for us, instead of constantly fretting about what *I* want. With other guys I've been with it's like: yes, thank you, it's very sweet of you to put all that thought into making me comfortable. You get a great big gold star, but ... could you just fucking fuck me, already? Please?? I don't want to play 5-dimensional emotional chess with my clothes off. I just want you to put my hips in a death-lock and be the man.

(Sorry, Mark. You really are a great lover! But sometimes a girl just needs ... ugh.)

Anyway. I knocked on his front door at 3:52 PM. He shouted, "It's open!" so I went through it. Once inside I saw Dylan, sitting by his desk in his casual workout clothes, facing me, and filming me with his cell phone.

"Hey, lover-boy! Are you happy to see m—Ack! I wasn't ready!"

He laughed. "Just saving the moment for posterity. And for my good friend, Mark! Hi, buddy! Say hello, Princess."

"Um, haha ... hi, honey."

"That's lovely. Now, walk slooowly towards me, and answer the following question: Why are you here today?"

I did as he asked, inching forward and somehow getting even wetter by the second. While I answered, I couldn't stop a giddy smile from spreading across my face.

"Heheh ... I'm here to have sex."

"Chelsea..."

"Ok ... I'm here to get fucked."

"Uh-huh. And are you here because Mark wants it, or because you do?"

"Both! Definitely both." At this point I was standing right in front him, feeling very aware of the camera lens. Dylan pointed wordlessly at the floor; I took the hint and dropped to my knees.

"Take it out," he told me. Still filming.

I followed directions and fished that perfect fucking cock out of his shorts — it was already almost all-the-way hard — and my mouth literally watered. Honestly, I craved to dive in and swallow him whole, but I was pretty sure that's not what he wanted. With my eyes still locked on that pillar of flesh in my hand, I asked:

"Can I suck it?"

"Hmmmm. You can do better than that, Chelsea." Yeah, he was right: I could do better. So I looked up at him, still feeling the glare of that camera. I tried to hold back a mischievous smile ... I failed.

"Please may I suck it, Daddy?" Dylan let go a cocky, triumphant laugh — he seemed very happy about the way things had worked out, and he had zero qualms about letting both me & Mark know it. It was that same confidence I found so irresistible, just reveling in his control, not at all concerned with how either of us might feel about it. God, why do I love this shit so much? A second later he gave me a pat on the head and said, "Aw, good girl. Yes, now you can suck it."

You know, there was a time I would've found that condescending. Now I was just proud.

And I was also eager. I smiled in genuine gratitude and attacked the cock in front of me. I swirled my tongue around the head then took it into my mouth and sucked hard; a deeply satisfied Mmmm! came automatically from my throat. I ran my tongue down the underside of the shaft all the way to his clean-shaven balls, where I spent a minute in worship before working my way back up.

It just did something to me — this cock, this totem of manhood. It flipped some switch inside of me. I loved it so, so much, like the testosterone pouring off it had wormed its way into my brain and made me drunk. Don't get me wrong, I've always enjoyed going down on Mark, but never like this. It was just a totally different kind of experience for me, and I had no doubt that my fiancé would be able to tell how much more I got into it from the video. I thought — I hoped — seeing it would turn him on, but just then that wasn't what I cared about most. What I cared about was doing a good job, and based on Dylan's reaction I did.

"Ohhh, damn! You're so fucking good at that. Mark, buddy, I gotta thank you! All those years you spent letting her practice on you ... Mmmm, turns out you were just getting her ready for me, and it's really paying off. Good job, bro." Before I could think about blushing in embarrassment for Mark's sake, Dylan gently lifted my head off his cock so I looked up towards him, and towards that camera lens. "Alright, you can have more later. Right now I'm ready to take your pussy again. Are you ready for that, sweetie?"

"Oh yes," I nodded happily. "I was ready before I walked in."

"Good. Thanks again, Mark! You're doing a great job. Isn't that right, Chelsea? Thank him for being such a good boyfriend and sending you over to get taken care of properly."

"Mmm, thank you babe!" I spat that out so quickly, doing my part in Dylan's little power play, before it occurred to me that I truly was grateful. "Um, really, thank you. It ... means a lot. I love you."

"Okay, okay — don't get all mushy on me. It's not the time." To drive his point home he grabbed that rigid cock by the base and slapped it against my face repeatedly, pretty hard; it made me giggle. "Now let's go fill you up," he said. He took 10 seconds type something into the phone before stuffing it in his pocket.

He stood up and then stuck his hand out to help me to my feet, and without thinking I launched myself at him for a deep, soulful kiss that went on so long it made me glad the camera was off. Dylan was the one who finally ended it, leading me by the hand to his bed.